The Phantom of Theater Two
by Kero Star
Summary: A strange modernday twist on the Phantom. It will feature new incarnations of old characters, and a slightly different Erik than the one we know and love.
1. Theater Two

Theater Two

_I can't imagine all the people that you know  
And the places that you go  
when the lights are turned down low  
And I don't understand  
All the things you've seen  
But I'm slipping in between  
You and your big... dreams  
it's always you and my big dreams…_

It was the first day of her new job and already she was stuck doing the jobs everyone else hated. Silver City Multiplex, the only movie theater in Eva's small town of Paris, Ontario, was the town's central hub on Friday nights, everyone was there, and Eva was stuck scraping their gum off the bottom of the plastic seats. As if it wasn't humiliating enough that all the pretty, popular girls from her school were there with their equally pretty, popular boyfriends, laughing at her, she was dressed like a candy striper, using a putty scraper on her hands and knees in someone's long spilt and dried coke.

"I don't care about those bitches anyway…" Eva grumbled to herself. In reality, Eva was a bit of a loner, she was shy and introverted, preferring to read a book that to dish the latest gossip. That had landed her the label of "freak" at her high school. Popular girls, specifically their ringleader Carla, had spread the word to avoid Eva like the plague and the entire school listened like the good sheep that they were. Eva though high school was only like that in the movies. Now she was a senior and counting the days till finals, and freedom from the institution that had crushed her self esteem for four years.

"Hey, Eva?" someone called. She sat up to see Peter, her supervisor standing in the door way. Peter was a short and very nervous man. He had neatly trimmed black hair and dark eyes; Eva didn't think he owned anything but suits. He was always nice to her, but he said he had to maintain "theater seniority", thus, Eva being the newest employee was given the jobs not even the janitor would do. "I have another job for you to do." Groaning inwardly, she gathered her gloves, scraper and big gulp cup filled with gum and fallowed Peter out into the concession area of the Multiplex. Instantly someone screeched with laughter and they both turned sharply to see a group of girls from Eva's school, pointing at her and laughing. Amongst them was Carla, laughing the loudest. If there ever was a Diva it was Carla. Her father was rich, and Carla got attention for it. She strutted down the hall like she was royalty, with a band of lackeys always nipping at her heels. Sometimes Eva felt sorry for her, because all her friends were using her for her money. However, that money did get her things, like the lead in every school musical and somehow her name magically added to the honor roll. Humiliated, Eva looked back to Peter, who was staring at the gum, obviously embarrassed for her.

"Right," he said stiffly, "I need you to mop up theater two." That was it? Just mop up? That wasn't so bad.

"Ooooo, Theater two. Be careful, you might never come out again." That obnoxious statement came from Wayne Ferrara, who was leaning against the wall nearby, casually holding a mop. Eva fixed him with a look that should have withered but he just returned with the fakest smile he could produce.

"What is so bad about theater two?" She said turning back to Peter, or the empty space where Peter had been standing a second ago. "Hey!" Eva shouted when she saw him slink away to the office. What was all that about? What could possibly be so bad about theater two? Wayne chuckled as he came to stand next to her, offering the mop. He had moved to Paris just last year from Toronto, a much bigger city. He was 19, a year older than herself and hadn't attended her high school. She found that underneath all their bickering, he wasn't being cruel like Carla; instead it was like a game they played. His brother Jamie however, was Carla's new boyfriend and was as bad as the rest.

"That's where the ghost lives." He said matter-of-factly, looking at the marquee above theater two's doors instead of at her. She stole a sidelong glance at his face and saw he was trying not to laugh. It was unusual for most people to see him so jovial, at work he was always very serious, accept with Eva. It was her one satisfaction to see the girls from her school fawn over him and he in turn ignore them. She had to admit under all his sarcasm he was quite handsome. His pale face was pointed and serious but Eva knew that when provoked from him a real smile could grace his lips and bright patches of color could flush his cheeks. His azure eyes were often stormy and intense, but when he laughed a tinge of green would creep into them and light them up.

"Oh really?" she said sarcastically. "And this ghost you speak of, how do you know he's in there?"

"Oh, there's been talk ever since I started here. You've only just started, so you wouldn't have heard the stories."

"What are _the stories_?" she asked incredulously.

"They say, 5 years ago, a teenaged boy died while they were renovating the theater. He was working up on some unsafe scaffolding and fell to his death. But they never found his body." Wayne was completely serious now; still gazing at the marquee like it would reveal to him the mysteries of the universe. Eva began to feel an unsettling prickling run up her spine. She remembered vaguely hearing about that when she was in eighth grade. "Ever since then weird stuff happens in theater two, where he died. None of the employees will go in there anymore, they're all too scared."

"Even you?" she teased. But Wayne was no longer in a teasing mood. He gravely handed her the mop and retreated to the supplied closet. Eva swallowed thickly and looked back at the doors. Then up at the Marquee. _The Exorcist_, it read in bold capitol letters.

"It figures…" She muttered before pushing one of the doors open and seeing nothing but blackness beyond.


	2. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Stranger Than You Dreamt It

_Stranger than you dreamt it -  
can you even dare to look or bear to  
think of me:  
this loathsome gargoyle, who  
burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven,  
secretly ...  
secretly..._

What was with the lights? The door swished shut behind her with a muffled click and suddenly all sound was cut off. It was so quiet that her ears were ringing from the strain of her trying to hear something, anything that would let her mind know that she was indeed still in the Multiplex and hadn't stepped into an alternate reality. After a tense moment she heard faintly the house music playing. Her eyes searched the blackness in vein, as her hand desperately flicked the light switch. This was perfect. Did I fall into a black hole? Blindly, Eva felt her way along the isle of seats, stumbling over garbage and the mop, all the while cursing theater two under her breath. Had no one even swept yet?

Feeling her outstretched hands finally come to rest on the smooth movie screen, she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd made it to the front without breaking her neck, so it was a start. The mop bucket was obediently waiting just within her reach, which was odd; she didn't remember bringing it in with her. She dipped a finger into it and the water was hot. Someone must have just recently filled this. But wouldn't she have heard them come in? Wouldn't light form the doors, have spilled into the theater? Come to think of it, she couldn't even see the light from the emergency exit sign. _Just mop the floor and get the hell outta here._

Dipping the mop into the bucket and wringing it out was a challenge in itself. Her eyes were not adjusting to the dark at all. It was a dense blackness, like it had substance to it. The air felt heavy and it seemed to press itself around her, offer resistance as she moved through it. She mopped and hummed, singing in tune with the music piped in from the lobby. It had a strange crackling quality, like the speakers were blown, or the music was really being played on an old phonograph. Her only memories of her father were from when she was very young. He used to let her sit on this jazz band practices, he played the bass. Her favorite memories were of her father's smiling face as he listened to his six year old make up her own words to his instrumental pieces. She had no good memories of her mother. Her dad always said she had the voice of an angel but ever since He'd been diagnosed with cancer, there had been no music in her life anymore, now her mom was addicted to cocaine and Eva had to fight like mad to keep up a normal existence. It was hard to keep up normal appearances when her mother was slowly selling off furniture for blow; her home wasn't a lets-breakout-the-folk-guitars-and-have-a-campfire kind of place. In high school she'd been afraid to join the choir. Her father told her that when he got to heaven he would send her an Angel of Music, but the angel never came and Eva felt stupid now that she'd believed in such a thing. She didn't even know if she believed in God anymore. She sang along quietly with Sarah Mclachlan until the song ended and she heard the low steady sound of one person clapping a short distance away.

"Wayne?" She called, hating the way her voice shook. She squinted into the inky blackness infront of her. "Wayne, if you're trying to scare me I'm going to hurt you!" there was no response. She could hear nothing, not the sound of breathing or the rustle of clothing. All she could hear was the sound of her own heart hammering in her chest. "Wayne! This isn't funny!"

"_Bravo… Angel…._." Someone whispered from behind her, their voice soft and melodious. Then again from somewhere in the seats, then over by the emergency exit… Over and over, the voice whispered, until the words were all around her, blending together, coming from all directions. Like a crowd of mysterious strangers hiding in the shadows. Soft skin grazed her cheek; fingers touching her pale face; she realized was now tearstained. She screamed, and the door burst open. Light spilled in from the noisy Multiplex beyond and Eva knew the real world was back.

Wayne was running towards her and she tried to go to him, only she was in a heap on the ground. When had that happened? When had she started crying? He fell to his knees next to her, just on the edge of the light, the neon making his hair look like spun gold. A knight in shinning armor, or at least a candy striper uniform.

"Eva!" He pulled her into his arms and she trembled against him. "Oh my God, what happened to you?" But she couldn't speak, not yet. She just buried her face into his shoulder, and he stroked her long copper curls. Peter wasn't far behind, fiddling with the light switch, cursing, and pacing, then fiddling some more.

"Why doesn't this damn thing work!" He cried in frustration. Eva looked up and saw that employees were crowding the door, trying to see what happened, catch a glimpse of who had screamed. "Mike, go check the breaker." Peter said in exasperation. What had just happened to her? Had it really been the Ghost she heard? She put a hand to her left cheek, it still tingled where she'd felt the caress. It had been the touch of someone living, she knew that for sure. "What in the hell…."

Eva and Wayne broke apart at the sound of Peter's voice much closer, laced with horror. Resting on the mop bucket was a single long stemmed rose. Its petals colored a crimson so dark that the edges appeared to be black. It rested upon a cream colored note card that read only three words in scrolling black cursive: _For My Angel…. _Peter had gone white, sweat starting to bead at his hairline and he reached an unsteady hand out towards the gift. At that moment Mike must have found the breaker, for just as Peter's tiny hand had closed about the stem, theater two was filled with brilliant light as the house lights flashed on and everybody groaned, raising hands to shield their eyes.

A piercing scream ripped through the silence as one of the concession girls pointed toward the movie screen. No, Mike hadn't found the breaker, he was dead. Someone or something had hung him from the curtain rod, at the top of the screen. Eva screamed too, so did a lot of people, what they didn't know that this was only the beginning of what the Theater Ghost was capable of.

_For my angel….._


	3. Secretly

Secretly

_Sit tight, I'm going to need you to keep time, come on just snap those fingers for me._

_Good, good, now we're making some progress, come on just tap those toes to the beat, _

_I believe that this may call for a proper introduction,_

_Don't you see? I'm the narrator and this is just the prologue._

_Swear I'll shake it up if you swear to listen,_

_Still so young and desperate for attention._

_I aim to be your eyes (heart& mind)._

The Multiplex was forced to close for the night. Hundreds of customers had to be refunded as dozens of police officers locked down the theater. It still wasn't clear which of the employees had called 911; most of them were still in shock. No one was in worse shape than Eva. Long black streaks of mascara had dried on her cheeks and her nose wouldn't stop running. She'd been crying on and off for hours and she'd gone over her story about a hundred times. She pulled her fire department issued blanket tighter around her shoulders feeling a chill run down her spine; she was so cold. She just wanted to get out of this place; every time she closed her eyes she saw Mike's lifeless body hanging there so limp and she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

"Okay," Officer Giry sighed, "Lets go over this one more time." Officer Megan Giry was the youngest policewoman Eva had ever seen. She was fresh out of the academy and Eva was beginning to wonder if this was her first assignment.

"We've been over it a million times." Eva grumbled, feeling bad for her snappish tone. She felt especially bad when Megan's brow creased with concern and she placed a comforting sisterly arm around Eva's shoulders.

"I know this is hard, but the sooner we finish up here, the sooner you can go home and get some rest." And so they went over it again, and again; then Eva went over her story with the lead detective, and finally she was free to go, Meg's number securely in her pocket, just in case she remembered anything. She trudged home slowly through the mud that the freshly fallen rain had created feeling empty. It was like her body was on autopilot, not exactly sure how she was still moving, but knowing that she was steadily making her way home.

"Eva!" she turned, seeing Wayne chasing after her. She stopped, more out of surprise than anything, and waited for him to catch up. "What are you doing out here alone, it's freezing," she knew what he really meant, why was she out here alone and venerable, not protected. He had a point though, it was cold, but Eva barely felt it on her exposed arms, but that wasn't what was causing her uncontrollable shivering, it was how cold she felt inside. He was pulling his windbreaker over his head and Eva blushed a little as his uniform rode up with it, revealing his flat, tanned stomach. "Here put this on."

"No, I can't really, you keep wearing it," Eva rushed out quickly, "I was just on my way home."

"Well let me walk you." He insisted thrusting the bundle back into her arms. Defeated, Eva pulled the wind breaker on and they walked along in silence. She couldn't help but notice how much the coat smelled like Wayne and how comforting it was. The smell of his cologne mingled with popcorn and something sweet lingered faintly in the zipped up collar and she found she was involuntarily burying her nose in it. She looked up to see him looking down at her; amusement mingled with concern made his a strange expression.

"What?" She asked, feeling heat rise on her cheeks.

"Nothing, I guess…" he paused and looked skyward as if searching for the right words, "I guess, I think we should talk about what happened tonight…" He was still looking up, deliberately not meeting her eyes. _Oh god, does he think I'm like imbalanced or something? _Her mind thought wildly, but he was going on, "What exactly happened before you screamed and everyone came rushing in?" not another interrogation.

"Look, my story hasn't changed, I was mopping, I was singing and then all of these people started whispering and someone touched the back of my neck that's all I know." She looked at him disgruntled.

"Okay, I believe you, it's just, when you screamed _everyone_ in the whole building heard it, and well, those theaters are supposed to be soundproof," he stopped walking and met her eyes for the first time and Eva had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. His eyes were all bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in a month. They hadn't looked like that before.

"Are you okay?" she exclaimed.

"What? Oh… yea I'm fine," he looked away again. "I'll be straight forward with you, I was really worried tonight, and if anything were to ever happen to you…" he trailed off stuffing his hands in his pockets. Eva felt her eyes widen in shock, was he saying what she though he was saying? But then he didn't say anymore on the subject and kept walking, switching instead to talk about the new movies that were opening that weekend. Feeling disappointed, she kept walking, occasionally giving him directions; she forgot it was such a long walk from the theater to her house. "Are you with me?" he asked laughing.

"What?"

"I asked if you worked tomorrow, but you were on another planet or something."

"Oh my god, sorry!" Eva exclaimed realizing that she had been absorbed in her own thoughts much of the way home.

"It's okay," he said still looking amused, "I realize tonight must have been a huge shock. If you work I'll see tomorrow." Then before she could say anything he swooped in and kissed her lightly. It was only a second or two, but it was sweet and tender. It took Eva a minute to realize that they were standing on her front porch. He playfully tugged on one of her pigtails before retreating back down the steps, calling "See you later," over his shoulder. She was still rooted in place, shell-shocked, with her fingers pressed lightly to her lips and he cheeks aflame.

"Bye," she managed to croak out when he was halfway down the block already. She put her hands in the pocket of the windbreaker searching for her keys, before realizing that this wasn't her coat and that her jacket was still at the theater. She swore under her breath and then her hand closed around something in the pocket. Feeling curious she pulled out a tiny plastic bag full of what looked like Tylenol. "What the…" They were not Tylenol, upon closer inspection she saw that they were round and had a little bunny with X's for the eyes printed on one side. Eva was not an idiot, she knew exactly what these were, and the longer she stood their gaping in shock at them, the more stupid she felt. _Maybe they aren't his, _her brain tried to reason with her, _maybe they're his brothers, or his friends… yea right, who am I kidding. _She felt tears spring to her eyes again and whipped them away angrily. She didn't have the energy to deal with this tonight. She twisted the door knob in frustration and felt it turn easily in her hand. Her old fear was back instantly and she hastily shoved the drugs back in Wayne's coat pocket.

"Hello?" she called hesitantly, her voice shook; she pushed the door open a little further.

"Hi sweetheart, what took you so long to get home?" Eva jumped a mile as her mom hurried into the entranceway.

"Hi mom," She looked around for anything out of the ordinary, and saw nothing. She relaxed a little. "I decided to walk, why are you still up?" Now she was searching her mom's face for the telltale sign's. She was so stupid, how could she have not noticed Wayne was high when she came home to her mother every night. Not waiting for her mom to think up an excuse, Eva pleaded exhaustion and hurried up to her room. She wanted to get into bed and sleep for a hundred years. She pealed off the coat and her uniform and made for her bed, taking her long red curls out of their constricting pigtails and froze as she noticed something white standing out against the royal blue of her pillow case. A Polaroid. She swallowed a scream and tried to fight the felling that someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over her head; now more than ever she felt like she was being watched. With a shaking hand she reached for the photo and turned it over. It was taken only minutes ago, Wayne kissing her on the porch, but the photographer had scribbled Wayne out with a red sharpie and written three words across the bottom in angry capitol letters: YOU ARE MINE.


	4. Loaded Words

Loaded Words

_My heart is on my sleeve_

_Wear it like a bruise or black eye_

_My badge my witness_

_It means that I believed_

_Every single lie you said…_

School the next day was, to put it mildly, hell. Eva sat through the jeers, the accusations, the shouted insults, everything; everyone thought she murdered Mike, even some of the teachers. She walked briskly to her locker, avoiding the eyes of most people in the hall. She dodged a wadded up piece of paper thrown in her direction and tried to keep what little remained of her dignity intact. When she got to her locker she stopped short and gaped. The chipped gray paint had been written on over and over again, the same word in angry capitol letters, scrolly cursive, chicken scratch, neat printing, even bubble letters: _Murderer_. The multicoloured graffiti covered every inch of her locker and Eva began to shake all over with anger, she wrenched her eyes closed hoping that when she opened them the words would be gone, but they were still there.

Behind her someone shrieked with laughter, quickly joined by everyone in the hall. Before she even turned around, Eva knew exactly who was standing behind her, and exactly who was responsible for this. She turned anyway and came face to face with Carla, who was a good six inches taller than Eva's 5"4. As usual her perfectly glossy ringlets were pulled into a trendy knot at the top of her head and her brown eyes were lined far too heavily complete with a bright blue eye shadow that stood out vividly

in stark contrast to her pale complexion. Her laughing mouth was runway-red, the exact shade of the sharpie she held in her hand. Eva's cheeks flared pink with embarrassment and rage; she could feel the heat creeping along the back of her neck and if she didn't find a way to get out of this situation she was going to break down in tears in front of everyone. With one arm slung casually around his girlfriend's waist, Wayne's brother Jamie leaned casually against the wall; he wasn't laughing but a bemused smirk was on his lips and his grey eyes were mocking. It was strange that he could look so different from his brother; they didn't share one common feature and shared even less in personality. Jamie had a black sharpie tucked in his pocket. The rest of their crew were scattered in the otherwise deserted hallway, blocking any escape in either directions. Carla stopped laughing abruptly.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here today," She sneered.

"Look, I didn't kill anybody, so can you get out of the way so I can go home and go to work?" Eva tried to keep her voice from breaking as she noticed Carla's friends were moving in to form a tight circle around them. Eva couldn't deny that she was scared.

"You're not going anywhere my dear,"

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, nothing," Carla said in a purr, twirling a loose curl around her finger absently, "just teach you a little lesson so you don't feel inclined to show your ugly face tomorrow."

"Wha–," but then they grabbed her, two very big guys from the football team each grabbed one of her arms to keep her from running while Carla grabbed a handful of Eva's rusty curls and yanked her head up so that Eva was looking at her.

"Knife," Carla said coldly, holding her hand out. Her mouth wasn't laughing anymore, but curled into an ugly sneer. Jamie fished a switchblade out of his pocket and handed it over. Eva watched in horror as one of Carla's perfectly manicured fingers pressed the button on the side and the blade swished out with a frightening noise. Eva started to struggle, not that she was getting anywhere; she was just succeeding in dislocating her shoulders. Carla yanked on her fistful of hair and Eva went limp.

"What are you going to do with that," Her voice cracked Eva had no time to be embarrassed about it, she was too busy watching the light glint of the blade with morbid fascination; Carla waved it in front of her face.

"Don't worry, we aren't going to kill you. We're just going to cut you a little…" Eva struggled with greater urgency, her glasses slid off her nose and clattered to the ground. Carla caught her chin with surprising force. "What a pretty face you have," She purred again, "a pity it won't be anymore…" Eva cried out as the knife flashed across her cheek, felt with terrifying awareness the cool metal bite into her skin. The knife came away stained crimson and Eva saw blood – her blood – splatter the ground and her green converse high-tops. Carla was poised to strike again when someone came around the corner.

It was Wayne, he was carrying Jamie's backpack, looking royally pissed off when he spotted the ring of people. He stopped looking bewildered, and Carla and her friends looked just as surprised back at him, until Wayne's eyes came to rest on the knife.

"Hey!" he shouted, "What the hell are you guys doing!" He dropped the bag with a dull thud a sprinted towards them while Carla abruptly dropped her knife and they scattered. Eva felt herself shoved to the ground as the football players tore down the hall. She couldn't see what was going on, she was blinded by tears of pain and she found herself on her hands and knees in her own blood. There was chaos all around her, people running, people shouting. She couldn't help it, she gasped out as sob and they kept coming, tears flowed down her face and burned as they mingled with her blood.

"Eva…" Strong arms went around her, coaxing her into the warmth their embrace offered. She sobbed and sobbed, burying her face in Wayne's chest and he stroked her hair, not saying anything. Eva wasn't sure how long they stayed this way; it felt like an eternity had past by the time her tears had exhausted themselves and she sniffed and hiccupped. By now she was surely late for work. She pulled out of his arms reluctantly seeing that she's ruined his shirt with mascara and blood.

"Let me see it," He said kneeling beside her. He brushed away the hair that had matted itself to her face and examined her left cheek with narrowed eyes. His hands were soft, his probing fingers gentle, he bit down gently on his bottom lip in concentration. "It wasn't deep," he told her, "I don't think it will scar as long as it doesn't get infected."

"Thanks," She said quietly and looked up at his eyes. They were clear and she breathed a sigh of relief and then recoiled in surprise when she noticed he had the beginnings of a black eye. "What happened to you face!" She cried.

"Oh, that," he put his fingers to it absently, "I went chasing down Jamie, and I got a hold of him but he punched me and kept running."

"I'm so sorry!" She gasped.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. Sorry that that little bastard would do this. If I hadn't decided to pick him up from school on my way to work, I might not have showed up and…" He trailed off and they both knew what might have happened it no one had come along. "I'm going to kick his ass when I get home." Wayne said savagely. They lapsed into awkward silence and as grateful as she was that he'd saved her she couldn't forget how upset she'd been last night to discover his stash; she also couldn't forget that he'd kissed her.

"I have your jacket in my locker, thanks for letting me borrow it last night," She said pulling herself up from the floor. She watched him closely for a reaction but he didn't give her one, he just smiled and mumbled something about it being no problem. She turned toward her graffittied locker with a frown, and began to turn the dial of her lock when she noticed a faint smell.

"Oh man, I hope they didn't put something gross in my locker," She groaned, as the lock clicked in her hand. She swung the door open and all the colour drained from her face. "_Oh my god…_"

"What?" Wayne said alarmed, "what is it?" She couldn't answer him as she stared in horror at the only object occupying her locker: a severed, bloody human ear; Mike's ear. She slammed the door shut before Wayne could see inside and locked it. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING. _But it was, and there was no way that Carla's gang planted that in her locker; the newspaper this morning had said that missing from Mike's body was his right ear. Whoever – Whatever killed Mike, was taunting her.

"What's the matter with you, you look like you've seen a ghost." Wayne asked with concern. "You just went pale as hell."

"Nothing, I – er, must have left your jacket at home." She said a little too quickly. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "We'd better get to work; I bet Peter is having a coronary."


End file.
